


Advanced Tactics

by CeeKari



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alien Zer0 (Borderlands), Ambiguous anatomy, Blackmail, Clothed Sex, Dominance/submission, Established Relationship, Everything is consensual, Haiku, Non-Penetrative Sex, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Zer0 (Borderlands), Offscreen Kink Negotiation, Oral Sex, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Role Reversal, Roleplay, after hours office sex, anxiety/self-doubt, handjob, respected safeword, scenario rework, slight praise kink, trying new things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:55:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28751025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeeKari/pseuds/CeeKari
Summary: After a lifetime spent struggling to be top dog at Hyperion, Rhys has some leftover fantasies about power.Zer0 is down to indulge him, but when the scene goes south for Rhys, they flip the script and save the day.
Relationships: Rhys/Zer0 (Borderlands)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	Advanced Tactics

**Author's Note:**

> The roleplay scenario here is blackmail/threats for sexual favors. It stays (what I consider) pretty soft and light, and it's not meant to read/feel like any actual non-con. Neither of the characters hurts, upsets, or scares the other, and nobody loses themselves in the scene.
> 
> That said, if you're concerned it's always best to err on the side of caution.

"All it takes is one call, and everyone in six galaxies would know who you are. What you are,” Rhys says, voice cold. “So you're going to do exactly what I want.”

Through the mirrored window, Promethea's nightlife is busy and bright as ever. Some might call the scenic view beautiful, but Rhys's attention is focused closer, eyes trained on the faint reflection of Zer0 behind him, gauging their reaction. 

“What _do_ you want?” Zer0 asks sourly, arms crossed. 

And that's it, the million dollar question. There are so many things he could have them do, or have them let _him_ do. He should have planned this out with them, instead of trying to wing it.

Rhys blanks for a moment, trapped by indecision before he steadies himself, remembering his old Hyperion management training. _Never show uncertainty. Let them squirm in your silence._ He takes his time thinking of a response, which proves harder than he expected. It should be simple to just say something sleazy, but every carnal demand that comes to mind only sticks in his throat. Too vulgar, maybe? He knows he's not great at dirty talk.

No problem, no problem. _Fake it 'til you break it_. _There's more than one way to skin a cat._ He turns from the window and smirks at them, one eyebrow raised. 

“What, isn't it obvious?,” he tries patronizing. "Or do you need a hint?" 

He comes closer, past the antique desk chair, his boots clicking sharply on the concrete floor. Zer0 recoils at his approach, but the backs of their thighs hit the edge of the heavy oak desk, stopping them short. 

This close, almost chest-to-chest, he has to crane his neck to keep his gaze leveled on their visor- _eye contact tells 'em who's boss._ He schools his expression into something suitably imperious, yet with a hopefully sexy smolder. His cybernetic hand grips the desk beside them; with the other he strokes their chest. They draw away from his touch, and he falters. It's just acting, he scolds himself. It's pretend, they're fine, they’ll tell him if they aren’t fine; that’s what the safewords are for. 

Zero barks a dry laugh. “Sexual favors/” they spit. “I don't know why I'm surprised./ How very cliche.”

“I prefer to call it classic.” His stomach twists. 

They scoff. “I can't believe it./ Businessmen are snakes at heart/ which I should well know,” they say. “Yet I've played the fool,/ revealed each of my secrets/ to your advantage." They shake their head, disgusted. "Trusting you was a mistake.”

The words send a chill through him, like he's been doused in ice. The unease that's been plaguing him finally crystallizes, a stomach-dropping realization that this could oh-so-easily be real. He does know them, knows things no one else ever has- their abilities, their shortcomings, their face. He could threaten them exactly like this, could betray their trust and use them any time he wanted. It doesn't feel like roleplay anymore, it feels real and it's sickening. 

He takes a shaky breath. He wouldn't, obviously he wouldn't. He's a better person than that now- but he still can't shake the echo of Jack, of Hyperion, of who he used to be, that says _remember when you crawled over as many people as it took to climb as high as you could get? if Zer0 looked like the next rung on your ladder, do you really believe you wouldn't crush them under your heel, kiddo_?

They touch his arm. “Rhys?”

He startles, squeezes his eyes shut against the nausea he's finally noticing. He feels… kind of not great. At all.

“Ahaha. Um. Yellow?” he pleads. 

Instantly they're off his desk, holding his arms and guiding him to sit in his chair. They crouch in front of him, a worried :( on their faceplate.

“Sorry,” Rhys bites out. He knows it's a thing, but it still feels stupid to use a safeword not even five minutes into their first ‘scene' when _he_ was the one in charge. 

“Don't be. Not your fault./ I knew it was a low blow/ soon as I said it," they murmur. OTL, says their helmet.

"No! No, it wasn't you. You were doing your part just fine. I just... couldn't get in the right headspace or something. Thought once I did that, it would be golden."

They rub his arms soothingly. “Tell me about it?/" they ask. "I'd like to know what went wrong/ for future reference." 

Ref-rence. They really are worried, if they're fudging their syllable counts like that. 

He sighs and scrubs his face. “I think it hit too close to home, maybe. I could actually say that stuff to you, you know? And I'd like to think I wouldn't but… that's a lot of power to have over someone. Like, what if one day I didn't like you turning down an assignment? Or if you wanted to work somewhere else and I wanted to make sure you stayed? It's just, I _could_.”

“You think you might?”

“It's a lot of power,” he repeats. “And power corrupts. You weren't wrong, you know, when you said corporate types are snakes. How many CEOs do you know who are good people, Zer0? Hell, even just decent people. How many?”

They cross their arms. "I know of one."

Rhys laughs mirthlessly and looks away. Zer0 doesn't know all the shitty things he did back on Helios. If he's lucky, they never will.*

Zer0 tilts his face up, not content to let him stare at his lap. "You pay me my dues./ Could have blackmailed me instead,/ shortened your payroll," they say. "Not that I'd let you/ use me like that. My point is/ you've never tried to.”

Rhys bites his lip. That's… true. He's had ample opportunity to screw them over in the past few years, but he's always made sure they got paid, even when budgets were tight. He never once considered using what he knows against them. Still. 

"Doesn't necessarily mean I won't lapse back into old practices one day," he points out. 

Zer0 shakes their head as they stand, and though he can't see it, he gets the distinct impression they're rolling their eyes at him. They offer him a hand up. 

“Let me show you how/ such a scene would likely go/” they suggest. “In a sexy way,” they add with a wink. 

“Uh? Okay. Yeah, I guess?” Rhys agrees, puzzled. He takes their hand. 

They lean against the desk and pull him so he stands as before, toe-to-toe with them, his hands on their hips like he's trapping them, leaving nowhere for them to go. It feels unpleasantly similar to the previous circumstance. He gives them a doubtful look.

They hum and tap their chin, apparently thinking. "From where we left off...” 

He barely has time to register the movement. Zer0 hooks their foot behind his knee and shoves his chest with both hands. He yelps. His leg buckles instantly and he topples into the desk chair with a heavy thump, arms flailing. Zer0 lunges forward and grabs the armrests. They lean in menacingly, stopping only inches from Rhys's face, a threatening red Ø displayed on their helm.

“Really now, Strongfork?/ How bold of you to assume/ you could threaten me/” they snarl. “Did you truly think/ you had the upper hand here?/ How the tables turn.”

He stares up at them, eyes wide, mouth agape. Oh. Oh, wow. He somehow forgot they're a straight-up badass who murders douchebags like him for a living. It's not where he expected this night to go, but the sudden spike of adrenaline and arousal convince him that yeah, letting Zer0 take the lead could be worth a shot.

“What are you going to do with me?” he asks fearfully, trying to give them something to work with.

“Weren't you listening?/I'm turning the tables, Rhys./ Now you'll obey _me_.”

The hum of their sword digistructing punctuates their words. The faint green glow gives it away as their sparring blade, but the intimidation is no less effective when they stand back and point the tip at Rhys's heart.

He flattens against the backrest. "Okay, okay! W-what do you want? Money? Information? Don't kill me, please, I'll uh,” he swallows, hoping he's not being too cliche. “I'll do anything.”

"Indeed you will," they promise. “On your knees, Strongfork.”

He isn't even sure he's processed the words before he slides out of the chair to kneel at their feet. 

With the flat of their sword under his chin, they raise his head to look at them. From this angle they're impossibly, inhumanly tall. The city's neon lights reflect off their dark helmet, streaks of pink, blue, and green flashing over the smooth surface as sky traffic zips by outside. Their black recon suit is sleek and simple, minimal pockets and no armor plating to obscure their body's lithe form. Their posture is that of a seasoned predator, all attention focused on their cornered prey. 

They're beautiful. He's always loved dangerous people, and Zer0's the deadliest he's ever seen.

They hum a pleased little noise as they look down at him. “You look good like this./ Let's put that mouth to better/ use than empty threats.”

The blade vanishes for the moment. They perch on the very edge of his desk and beckon him closer until he shuffles forward, stopping between their spread knees. It's tempting to guess what they want, but he doubts he's supposed to be the one taking initiative here. Instead he keeps still, at attention on his knees, cheeks flushed, watching them uncertainly. They chuckle at his expression as they drag his head precisely where they want it, at the apex of their thighs.

 _Oh_. A wave of relief washes through him. He didn't _really_ think they'd make him do something awful and humiliating, but what they've picked is a favorite of his. Still, he tries to stay in character.

"This is blackmail, too, you know,” he tells them, lips almost touching the fabric of their suit.

"You don't say?” they mock. “CEOs are bad/ but assassins aren't better./ Didn't you know that?"

He shudders at their tone. Before, he assumed he'd enjoy an illusion of control, an echo of all the daydreams and fantasies he used to have, the ones where he could do whatever he pleased and everyone else had to do as they were told. But there's something appealing about the idea of karma, maybe, something thrilling about being stripped of power, left at Zer0's very limited mercy.

"Well?" they prod. "Don't keep me waiting./ Patience is a virtue, but/ mine is wearing thin." Idly they tap the handle of their sword on the desk, a thinly veiled threat.

Rhys shivers and gets to work, laying a series of openmouthed kisses up the inside of their thigh, keeping his eyes on their helmet until he reaches their groin. He presses one more kiss there, their breath barely catching, then he seals his mouth over the suit and drags his tongue up in a broad swipe. They smell faintly of gunpowder and metal as always, though there's no taste to the material. He closes his eyes and mouths at them slowly, almost reverently, exploring the feel of them with his lips and tongue, already breathing harder.

The recon suit is thin, skintight, made to prioritize silence and ease of motion over protection. His tongue glides over the fabric, frictionless. The heat of them seeps through the fine material, warm like Pandoran sunlight on his lips and the sides of his head. Their skin is pliant and yielding here, invitingly soft, particularly compared with how solid the rest of them tends to be.

Deliberately he maps their strange vertical ridges with his lips, dips his tongue into the narrow divot between them. He still doesn't know much about their lower anatomy, and he's never been bold enough to ask, but he knows from experience just how sensitive they are here. He focuses his attention, pressing his tongue against them like he intends to tongue-fuck them through the suit. Zero gasps sharply and their hips jerk.

"Good boy," they croon, fingers tightening in his hair. They sling a leg over his shoulder, dragging him close. "Keep going."

He flushes. The praise sends an unexpected liquid warmth rolling through him, the kind that settles low in his belly. Making them feel good is one of his favorite hobbies, and he loves to hear he's doing well at it.

His hands slide up the inside of their thighs, thumbing the seams of the suit, squeezing solid muscles that flex under his fingertips. As he laps and sucks at them, he tries not to think about what this might be like without the suit, about how their bare skin might feel under his lips, about how they might taste, about the sounds he could wring from them with no barrier between his tongue and the hot, sensitive core of them. Without thinking he reaches down to palm his erection through his tailored slacks. The cool metal of his hand feels perfect through the fabric. He makes a soft, needy sound as he grinds his palm down, briefly faltering in his attentions, distracted.

Zer0 chuckles as they watch him. “Enjoying it, then?/ Being sexually blackmailed/ by a murderer?”

Probably he should play to the scene, put up some bluster that no, of course he isn't enjoying this, but all his higher brain functions have gone offline, leaving no thoughts beyond giving Zer0 as much pleasure as he can. Instead of protesting, he groans a helpless affirmative, sending vibrations through the delicate anatomy under his tongue. 

Zer0 swears under their breath. 

“If you make me come/” they offer, their voice deliciously unsteady, “I'll consider sparing you./ I can show mercy."

God, he wants to make them come, he loves taking them apart like that. He breathes hard through his nose and redoubles his efforts with purpose. It's practically obscene, the sucking, wet noises his mouth makes as he pushes them toward climax. In a stroke of genius, he remembers his free hand and puts it to use, rubbing along the crease of them in tandem with his tongue.

He glances up at them, watching with half-lidded eyes. Their visor is blank, but he can read all he needs to in their posture, curling over him like a parenthesis, and in their tightening grip on his head, nearly crushing his nose against them. Their breath goes ragged, hitching with every flick of his tongue, and each sound causes his dick to twitch with need. He knows they're close. 

They whimper low in their throat, desperate little sounds that set sparks racing down his spine. He ignores the fatigue building in his jaw, points his tongue and licks rapidly against that soft central hollow. His thumb rubs quick, tight circles below his mouth, and just as they're tensed, shuddering and panting, right on the edge of breaking, he rakes his teeth down over them, and the sharp, unexpected sensation sends them over.

Strange muscles ripple against his lips, their spine bows in a beautiful outward curve, and their thighs clamp down on his ears, every fiber of them taut with pleasure. Their hand fists in his hair and they trill, a high, inhuman sound for his ears only, one he's awestruck by every time he gets to hear it. 

They're gorgeous. Rhys moans desperately and squeezes his cock, feeling precome dot the inside of his silk boxers, wishing he'd bothered to undo his pants beforehand but too preoccupied now to manage it one-handed. He keeps his mouth moving, lips and tongue and fingers continuing to wring gasps and tremors from them, gradually gentling as they come down. 

Eventually they release his hair, stroking his sore scalp apologetically before pushing him away, too sensitive to let him continue. 

Rhys wipes his mouth on his sleeve and looks up, biting his lip and trying not to grin. “So, uh. Does that mean I get to live?”

Zer0 laughs, still short of breath. “My legs are jelly./ Your stay of execution-/ I'd say you've earned it.” 

They offer their hand. He winces at the creak in his knees as they pull him to his feet. The concrete hasn't been kind to his old bones. Worth it, though.

His dick is still at attention, no surprise there, but it's a back burner concern. He loops his arms over Zer0's shoulders and rests his forehead on their helmet for a while, just listening as they catch their breath, enjoying the feel of their hands roaming along his ribs, their knees on each side of his hips, simply sharing their afterglow. 

They hum contentedly. "Standing ovation./ A grand performance like that/ deserves a reward."

"Hm?" 

A mischievous :3 flashes on their helm. Nimble fingers undo his belt buckle by way of suggestion. 

He sucks in a breath, cheeks reddening. Oh! _That_ kind of reward. 

"I would… very definitely not say no, but don't feel obligated. Rhys Jr. will eventually calm down on his own if you'd rather j-"

"Shh," they interrupt as they flick open the button of his pants. They ruck his shirt up out of the way and slip a gloved hand under his waistband, long fingers brushing the neatly trimmed curls at the base of his cock. "You've earned this."

"Ah. Well, when you put it that way," he concedes easily, leaning into their touch. He could get used to bossy Zer0, especially when they have such great ideas.

They chuckle and pull his slacks just low enough to work with, their warm fingertips catching his cockhead, smearing a bead of precome down his length. Their free hand rests on the back of his neck to keep him close. Rhys practically purrs. Their three-fingered grip might be a bit different, a bit strange, but it's something uniquely Zer0 and he can't help but love the way it feels. 

Their gloves are non-slip, though, and the material catches on his skin. Zer0 huffs and withdraws their hand, fumbling for something on the desk behind them. Rhys recognizes his bottle of high-dollar mechanical oil a moment before they coat their palm with it and smooth it over his cock. 

He groans. The tight, slick glide of their hand is nothing short of perfect. They work him slow and easy, using long, measured strokes from base to tip and back again, letting it build bit by bit until he's shaking. He clings to them, fogging their visor with each breath, clutching their shoulders like a lifeline as they touch him in all the best ways, just shy of pushing him over. He whimpers into their shoulder, half-pleading and thrusting blindly into their fist. They're so good, they're so good to him.

“When I make you come/ I want you to call my name./ Do you understand?”

“God, yes, I do- I- I'm close, _please_ ,” he begs as their hand rounds over the head of his cock. “Whatever you want, Zer0, anything, I'm yours- oh, _oh_ , _fuck._ ”

They tighten their grip and pump his length in earnest, once, twice. He sobs into their shoulder. His toes curl as the pleasure crests.

“Zer0,” he gasps. “ _Zer0_.”

With a loud, stuttering groan he comes, hips bucking, soaking their glove and staining his pants. His vision blurs and his knees go weak as the force of it ebbs, and he half-collapses into the chair behind him. 

He blinks up at them, flushed and panting, still reeling from what they managed to do to him with just one hand. They are a _force_ of _nature_ , holy shit.

Zer0 chuckles and snags a tissue from his desk, letting Rhys come back online while they clean themselves up. 

"God I love you," he tells them once he gets his breath back. "That was amazing. You're amazing." 

Zer0 projects a heart, then a cocky wink. "I'm skilled with my hands./ They can deal death or pleasure/ with equal prowess."

Rhys rolls his eyes, grinning. "And you're so humble, too."

“View my handiwork/" they say, gesturing to him. "You look utterly debauched./ Why shouldn't I brag?”

Rhys glances down at himself: shirt rumpled, softening cock exposed to the air, trousers still down around his thighs, the front of them wet with cum and impromptu lube. Ew. And he can't see his head right now, but he's sure he has the _worst_ case of sex hair. Zer0 might be enjoying the look, but it's not exactly becoming of a renowned CEO such as himself. He grimaces.

Zer0 hands him a tissue. He blots away the worst of the mess and gets his clothing back in order. The shirt he leaves untucked to help conceal any, ah, unfortunate stains from view on the way home.

"We should head back and freshen up," he suggests. "Post-Sex Rhys feels- well, awesome, but also kind of gross."

"You don't want to stop/ for delicious take-away?/" Zer0 asks innocently. "They _are_ still open."

He knows the place Zer0 means, and it's definitely one of their favorites rather than his. Still, he _is_ hungry.

" _Fine_ ," he gripes. "But you're the one going inside to get it. Post-Sex Rhys is not leaving the car."

\---

After stashing their food for later, Zer0 jumps over the back of the couch, making Rhys yell and scramble to save his plate as they throw their long legs across his lap and get comfortable. They lean against the armrest, a happy little :) on their visor. 

"Warn a guy, will you? I could've dropped my mei fun," Rhys grumbles. He balances his tray on their legs out of spite.

They ignore his complaints. "So, what did you think?/ Was I successful in my/ rescue of our date?"

Rhys rolls his eyes at their angling for compliments, but he can't say he minds stroking their ego, especially when he can do it with one hundred percent honesty.

"Pretty sure I said you were amazing already," he says, fighting a smile as he twirls rice noodles onto his fork. "But if you need to hear it again…?"

They pump a triumphant fist in the air, \o/ projected on their faceplate. 

They steal the remote. For a few long moments there's only the sound of them changing channels, and the occasional slurp of noodles from Rhys. 

The silence is usually comfortable, but Rhys knows there's something else he needs to say. He casts a guilty look at them.

Zer0 catches it. "Something wrong? You're tense."

Rhys grimaces. "I just… wanted to say I'm sorry. For underselling you like I did."

A question mark pops up on their faceplate.

"I mean, for acting like you'd be helpless if I decided to turn on you. You could absolutely hand me my ass if I ever tried. Don't know how I forgot that."

¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ says their visor. "I found a fun way/ to remind you, didn't I?/ Worth trying again."

Rhys blushes. "It, uh. Yeah. I'd be down for that. Though I still kinda want to test out. You know. Being in charge at some point."

"Later, a retry./ Now, though, it's time for good food/ and a new sitcom."

"Bossy," Rhys teases, poking their leg.

"Problem?" they counter.

He grins. No, it really isn't. 

**Author's Note:**

> *Zer0 absolutely knows like 90% of the shitty things Rhys did on Helios, and they very much don't care. 
> 
> I can see why Zer0 does haiku; the challenge of fitting words in them while still getting your meaning across is actually pretty fun. I did have them drop out of haiku like they do in canon, for short sentences and the like. It felt more natural that way. 
> 
> I don't have solid headcanons on it either way, but in this fic, Zer0's natural body temp is higher than a human's.


End file.
